Sacrifices
by MarkTheTinyGiraffe
Summary: Being half-ghost, he could resist the ectoplasmic brain washing messages that are sent through the music. But can this new girl, (Sam, was her name?) resist as well? This story has it's up's and down's, but if you stick around, you will get the message. DXS! A tale of mystery, suspense, drama, romance and tragedy.
1. Prologue

**Um, Hello. Well, this is my very first fanfic. I hope you guys enjoy! Just before we begin; I just want to state that love Danny Phantom, and I am a DXS shipper. Though; I only watched a few episodes of the show. For one reason or another, Nickelodeon doesn't show Danny Phantom anymore, so I have only watched till episode 15. **

**I can safely say though, that this fic is placed before PP, and Danny and Sam are both 17. Don't ask more questions on where exactly it takes place in the timeline, don't worry about it, actually, it won't be important in this fanfiction.**

**I got the inspiration for the beginning chapters from the novel **_**Candor**_**. Of course, in an awesome DP style. But don't worry, the plot will leave**_** Candor**_**, after a few chapters, and float on its own. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Danny Phantom, or any of its characters. Nor the plot line of **_**Candor.**_** Or, basically anything else you recognize that might remotely resemble something anyone else owns.**

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Prologue**

* * *

Sunlight illuminated the room full of papers, letters, junk mail, and envelopes. The office was a neat and plain one, like all the others in the town; The mahogany chairs and matching table expertly polished, the faint smell of coffee and old books lingering in the air, the faint – almost undetectable – music playing in the air, the calming atmosphere bought by the dim sunlight, the plush plum carpets. It all seemed fitting.

In the room, stood Danny Fenton, working animatedly with the flyers, accompanied by a fake, plastic smile on his face. Once all the leaflets were neatly piled up, he glanced at the reflection of the pathetic excuse of a town he lived in, through the window.

Amity park. There are no birds chirping, no mid-autumn breeze blowing the bushes, no faded children's laughter in the background; it's as if a sound-proof blanket has covered the city, letting the little spark of life within, diminish away.

It's weird how the weather can reflect his moods.

There isn't anything to notice, really: all the old Victorian houses painted elegantly white, the perpendicular windows draped generously with dark velvet curtains, all the lawns neatly trimmed to a proper, fitting manner. Neat, sweetly polished, calm cool and collective; that's the nice and easy town of Amity for you.

Obviously, the town is perfect. Not a hair out of place.

Odd, you might think, that a city with so much madness can be so calm. Well, let's just say that: If you stick around, you will get the message.

Being controlled by Vlad, that is.

Danny grit his teeth and stiffened his jaw. The smile was no longer there.

It happened like an insignificant blur. He was very young when his family died, leaving him and Jazz alone. Being the closest of friends with his dad, Vlad offered to take care of the two defenseless orphans. Jazz refused, and without a seconds chance was sent to boarding school, out of Amity.

Danny hasn't seen her since.

Vlad then soon took over the city. He was just seven. So little. So young. So stupid. He never knew how Vlad did it, how he managed to do it, but it was done, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

It was as if he wasn't in control of his body. He would get up at six in the morning – on the dot, without an alarm clock - and he would get ready for school as if it was programmed inside him like a robot. He would do his laundry. He would do all his homework. He would do his chores without complaint. He would never miss curfew. He was the top of all his classes. He was perfect, obedient, just like all the other kids in the city.

Until, one night he experienced the same thing.

He snuck in to the basement – the forbidden part of the house, the house that he and Vlad lived in - and found a pleasant surprise; it was a laboratory. And it had a weird portal in the far corner of it.

He discovered ectoplasm. He became half ghost. He also discovered how Vlad did it.

He sends ectoplasmic messages, to the human brain, and he controls them. He controls everyone, all the people of the city. Through the music. Through the soft melody you hear, hidden in speakers all around the city, he makes you do things.

Like wake up at six in the morning and get ready for school without the need of an alarm clock.

Being half ghost meant that he could use his own ectoplasm and resist the messages. He can be his own self, but he still needs to blend in with the others, so that things don't look suspicions. The last thing he wants is to go into the 'listening room'. He shuddered at the thought.

Hence, the reason he is here, in a dinky shop that people from outside the city, come inside the city to visit. To book a space for their child, to live here. This little office/shop, is where he works. Well, this is where Vlad wants him to work, but he only actually does to keep up the act.

Now, why on earth would any sane parent want their child to live in a city that is being mind controlled, you ask?

Two reasons. One; no one except Vlad, who does the mind controlling, and Danny, who found out what he has been up to, knows about the messages.

Two; it looks so promising. It is, actually. He looks guiltily down at the brochure.

'_Got a rebel in your hands? Does your child need discipline? Drinking problem? Depression? No matter what the problem; it can all be solved here. Amity: The place where you can start again!'_

It's not a metaphorical statement, either.

With a final huff of exasperation, he slumped in his chair.

There was nothing he could do about it. Yet.

The door creaked open, sending a soft _ding_ echoing through the room.

* * *

**Ok, let me clear one thing for you guys; Vlad doesn't know that Danny is half ghost, and Danny doesn't know that Vlad is a half ghost either. Ok? Any more questions, don't hesitate to ask.**

**Thanks for reading. The first chapter will be up sooner than you think. Please review. **

**~Mark the tiny giraffe.**


	2. Clunks'n'Clanks

**Wow, 5 reviews for just the prologue… I am surprised. I didn't expect to get any, in fact. **

**Thank you; **_**Iblamepie**_**, **_**Invader Johnny**_**, **_**ShadowDragon357**_**, **_**Emmazippy577**_** and **_**the elf from Alagesia, **_**for reviewing.** **Oh, and thanks guys for sending me links on where to find the episodes online. I will look through them in my spare time. Eventually.**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Danny Phantom. Or **_**Candor.**_

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Chapter 1; Clunks'n'Clanks**

* * *

An African-American; looking more-or-less his age, walked in. His green eyes were glazed, burning holes in his PDA, his rimmed glasses seemed to be the only thing protecting them from dissolving in the tiny gadget. Following him, entered two adults, looking in their mid-twenties, undoubtedly his parents.

Three messages hit him at once.

_Look up. Smile. Give a warm welcome. _

He didn't need to be told twice. Before he could stop himself, he seemed to have made his way half way across the room, shook both the parents' hands, and said some form of greeting he was vaguely aware of.

No. This had to stop. He needs control of his actions.

_Offer them the brochure. Invite them to stay in the city._

Instead, he said, "Would you like to take a seat?" The three complied, and soon the four were seated – the kid having no idea as to what's going on, being so interested in his PDA – looked up for the briefest moments. He met Danny's' eyes, and smiled. Danny smiled back.

_Offer them the brochure. Invite them to stay in the city._

No. 'Don't go straight to the point. Make small talk.' He instructed himself.

"So," He began, "What brings you to Amity?"

The mother, gave an annoying glance at her son, who shrugged sheepishly, and replied, "Our son, Tucker, needs to be disciplined," She said it so calmly, so sweetly, anyone could easily have mistaken it for something else.

Danny looked at the boy, Tucker, and raised both eyebrows.

_Invite them to stay in the city. Invite them to stay in the city._

"Well," Danny said after examining his red beret, "He seems fine to me." Tucker gave him a smile, gratitude sparkling in his eyes.

_Invite them to stay in the city. Invite them to stay in the city._

"Yes, but he spends so much time on that thing," The mother stated glaring at the PDA Tucker clutched in his hands, "That his grades are decreasing. He is becoming a social outcast! He needs friends! He needs to get out the house more! He needs fresh air! He needs a life!"

Danny winced as she ranted on and on, and gave Tucker a pleading look. To his surprise, Tucker seemed to be having difficulty holding in his laughter. So did his father, apparently.

_Invite them to stay in the city. Invite them to stay in the city. Invite them to stay in the city. _

"…you will help, won't you?" The father asked, patting the mother on her shoulder, trying to calm her.

"Yes. We can. But are you sure you want to put your child in this city?" He asked. Tucker seemed to tense up at the distress in his voice, his giggles now gone. But Danny couldn't help it.

Another innocent teenager, who must have done nothing wrong, will enter this city and lose their identity. They will be robots. Photocopies of each other. Have the same interests, have the attitude. No distinction. No ideas of their own. No control. No right to speak and say, or do what they want to on their own free will.

Slightly taken aback by the question, the father took a few moments of consideration. Then, after what seemed like sluggish centuries, he said, "No, we came to an agreement. We know what's best for our son, and we would like you enroll him in the city," His voice, had an icy tone to it, something that he should not mess with.

"But, we can come visit him, right?" The mother asks, suddenly all teary.

"I am afraid not," Danny supplies, with no hint of remorsefulness in his voice. But as he starts to fill in the forms, he glances at Tucker with what he hopes is a reassuring glance. Tucker responds with a strained smile.

After the paperwork was complete, the date set, the three left.

_Go home and finish homework._

Danny sighed and slumped in his chair. Another innocent youth will be joining the others.

* * *

_Clunk, clunk, clunk. _

Currently hunched over his study table, Danny stiffened in his position, pen still hovering millimeters above the page. He listened. One met with silence, he resumed scribbling a last-minute project essay, which, knowing him, was probably due in the next day. He froze, however, when he heard it again.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk. _

Something in the back of his mind was nagging him that he should abandon homework, like always, and check it out. The other part of his brain, the more rational one (that suspiciously resembled Jazz); he supposed, was telling him to ignore it and continue this piece of homework. After a few seconds of having a mental debate frozen in place, he resumed working, pen scraping on paper once again.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk. _

Well, he was going to fail English anyways. Giving up, he tossed the pen aside, got up, transformed, and flew invisibly out of the room.

* * *

**I don't really like the shortness, but I wanted the first chapter to be up as soon as possible, and I needed to get Tucker involved. Sam's first appearance is close, don't worry. **

**Yeah, I don't really like Tucker's parents being strict, but come on, Tucker is so innocent that only super-strict parents will send him to a city like that. **

**Ok, thanks for reading guys, and please review! Don't hesitate to ask questions. **

**Next update, a week from today. (But if I am in a good mood, I might post it earlier.)**

**~Mark the tiny giraffe.**


	3. Neon Purple

**Ok, guys, I have had a really, really, REALLY, bad week. And I didn't want this chapter to be angst. (Yes, my writing reflects my moods, and this is why I force myself to be optimistic.) So, I wrote this chapter, and it is awful, and you guys have been waiting and it's not fair on you, so I decided to post it today. **

**And in return, I will post a lengthy chapter, very soon to make up for this. Deal?**

**Thank you; **_**Emmazippy577, Iblamepie, Invader Johnny, SandraStar66, the elf from Alagesia**_**, and **_**ShadowDragon357**_**, for reviewing. **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Danny Phantom. Or **_**Candor.**_

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Chapter 2; Neon Purple**

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_Go home and finish homework._

The same message was playing in his head the moment he left the house. He brushed it back with practiced ease.

Currently fifty feet above the ground, he spots something not that far off. Swooping down in the nearest alley, he transformed back to Fenton – he could not risk exposure, he feared it was apprehensive, and should be avoided – and proceeded to the street of the crime.

Advantage number one for living with the person who - litterly - controls the city: you know the town's map off by heart.

_Go home and finish homework._

Going to the scene of the crime is not a problem. Subduing his shock, however, was a difficulty because not one, but two surprises were awaiting him.

Walking with her back facing him, she jogged along the path. She wore a black tank top, a black-green-criss-crossing skirt, purple leggings, and combat boots. Her hair was just above her shoulders.

_Go home and finish homework._

Danny was…shocked to say the least. Not ever, has he come across someone with so much rebellion. Right now was the time for 'finishing homework'. And, accordingly, the streets were empty. Except for him, and… the mystery girl.

He has ectoplasm to fight off the nagging in his brain. How can she stroll halfway across the city at 'homewok' time?

She wore purple and black bracelets that clashed with her pale, silky skin. In her right hand, was a small can. A neon purple can. _Clunk, Clunk, Clunk._ Mystery noise, you have been found.

Deciding that it was best to make his presence known, he uttered a small, "Hello." She immediately swiveled around, and they both came face to face for the first time.

His heart skipped a beat.

Her hair was illuminated by the moonlight, framing her face; giving it a slight glow. Her violet lips were slightly parted. But, her eyes; oh, her eyes… they were striking. He had never seen anything like it before. Violet.

Beautiful.

But, no, this could not be said, because even though she has enough rebellion to disregard the messages once, he could not safely say that she could keep it up. In a few weeks, maybe even a month – judging by her gothic clothing – she will become a brainless photocopy.

_Go home and finish homework._

No, he would stay here. Right here, definitely.

'Mystery girl' was also impressed by his appearance, actually. She raised both thin eye brows, and, to her credit, only questioned, "What, no homework to do?" she finished with a smug grin, and continued walking.

Oh no, she was not going anywhere this easily. He jogged until he was walking beside her, and replied, "Actually, no. I came here to stop some theft,"

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide, jaw suddenly clenched. "I did _not_ steal this," She said, waving the can in front of my face. _Clunk, clunk, clunk._ "I brought it from home," And with that, she began power walking away.

He smiled. She looked pretty cute when she was angry.

Catching up with her, he said, "Alright," She curiously looked at him, a hint of acceptance in her eyes, but when she caught his smile, she was rigid again. The action, somehow, made Danny smile brighter, effectively making her more infuriated by the minute.

"Vandalism, then. I came here to stop some vandalism," amusement was sparkling in his eyes, in contrast to the violet ones that were ablaze with fury. "It is _not _vandalism," She spat. "It's art!"

She shoved him aside, and continued in her path.

_Give respectful space in every place. _Huh, new message. Observing by the way she stopped for three seconds in the middle of her path, it seems like she got it too.

This time, when he caught up with her, in one fluid motion, he snatched the can of spray paint out of her hands. If he thought angry was cute, he was in for a pleasant surprise.

_Give respectful space in every place._

"Give that back!" She screeched, lunging forward for the can. Being taller, he simply held it at arms' length above his head, while she jumped helplessly in a failed attempt to get it from him. With a huff of anger, she used her trusted boot to kick him square on the shin.

That did the trick.

_Give respectful space in every place._

He gasped, dropped the can, and clutched his poor leg with both hands. Meanwhile, she grabbed the can, regained her composure – in her case, lose all the anger – and said in an obviously fake, sugar coated sweet voice, "I am_ so_ sorry. But, you see, if I am to respect you, you do _not_ enter anywhere near twenty feet of me,"

_Give respectful space in everyplace._

To her credit, she was doing very well. Many would have given each other space by now, avoiding physical contact as the message instructed. But she did not.

She was different.

He liked that.

Recovering, he got up on his feet again. And so, while she had the fake smile masking the murderous gleam in her eyes, he attempted to snatch the can again.

He succeeded.

_Give respectful space in everyplace._ The message was ignored.

Suddenly, it was a full blown marathon. She was hot on his heels, and he was fumbling to get the cap to pop open, just a few inches ahead of her. Then, the cap was gone, and before he knew it, he was spraying like a maniac, left arm stretched out to the neatly chopped lawns, and white painted houses.

_Vandalism is wrong. Stop._ A new message, and we still don't care.

One long, uneven streak of bright neon spray paint was on every perfectly-white-painted house in the street.

_Vandalism is wrong. Stop._

He heard laughing, and when he turned his head to the right he noticed, not only the fact that mystery girl was sprinting right beside him, but also the fact that she was laughing – admiring his work.

A pleasant feeling swelled up inside his chest.

And soon, he was laughing too.

When the can was out of paint, they stopped. Both gasping for air, pink checked, but still laughing. "That," She got out between gasps, "was, amazing."

Chuckling, he said, "Thanks," He looked at her, her pale cheeks currently rosy, her eyes sparkling with delight. She outstretched her hand to him. "Well, Picasso. Nice to meet you. My name is Sam,"

_Give respectful space in everyplace._

He shook it.

* * *

**Bah. I don't think it worked. Tell me what you think. Next chapter, coming really soon.**

**Thanks for reading, please review. **

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	4. Graffiti

**Wow, I went to sleep all grumpy yesterday, and today I woke up and saw, like 7 reviews! That just made my day. Looks like this week shall be better than the last, and that just means that there will be more updates for you guys!**

**I was supposed to post this yesterday, but things got in the way. Sorry.**

**Thank you so much;**_** Iblamepie, Invader Johnny, SandraStar66, mihane100, ShadowDragon357, guest, samansonreplica, and the elf from Alagesia**_** for reviewing!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Candor **_**and Danny Phantom belong to their rightful owners.**

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Chapter 3; Graffiti**

* * *

Danny woke up at six in the morning, much like everyone else in the town. Scurrying into the kitchen of the big mansion, he started the kettle that will soon produce his morning salvation: coffee. Half awake, he hauled his lazy but off the kitchen counter and made his way to the living room.

Sitting on one of the green worn-out couches, should have been Vlad, reading the daily newspaper – that was now, folded on the coffee table beside the couch. Vlad usually spends his morning reading the newspaper, trying to talk to Danny, and mainly grumbling to himself. But, on rare occasions – like today – he was not where he generally is.

The only sole reason he would not be up here this morning is because he is busy in the lab.

And he only goes to the lab when he wants to send a new message.

Fully alert now, he racked his brain to think. What exactly could have happened, yesterday, that would make him direct thousands of more messages?

Then, yesterday's events were drawn to him.

* * *

_She outstretched her hand to him. "Well, Picasso. Nice to meet you. My name is Sam," Ignoring another message, he shook it: in a firm yet gentle grip. _

"_Danny," He nodded. Eyes still dancing, she looked at the – now empty – can of spray paint. "That was my last one. I wanted to make it worthwhile," She met his gaze, and he could see that she had softened. "But this was so worth it,"_

_A blush crept to his face, and hers' too, but they didn't comment. Their eyes locked, and they just gazed at each other; in a sudden loss of words._

_Then, Sam gasped, effectively breaking him from his trance. Her eyes grew wide, making the violet orbs within look as beautiful as ever. "What's wrong?" He asked, but she didn't seem to hear him. _

_After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, she said, "N-nothing," painful with the sudden stuttering, showing the act of fear, she straitened, cleared her throat and said, "Nothing. Never mind. Well, see you later Picasso," _

_And with that, she started jogging again, this time, for home. Leaving Danny standing on the footpath, wondering what on earth he did wrong._

* * *

How could he have been so stupid? In a perfect Barbie-doll-type city, who would just pass by a house, with a long neon purple line across the length of it, and not question it? No one!

And then, the anticipated message hit him; _If you know about the graffiti, tell someone. _

Graffiti? That was not graffiti! That was just a mere long line across a plain white house. Sure, the line stretched to all the other houses in the street… but did that matter?

That didn't really worry him. What his main concern was, in fact, he could easily disregard the message, but – his partner in crime – could not.

Ok, Sam did have enough stubbornness to; go out in the middle of the night at 'homework' time, continue wearing gothic clothing, intending to paint one of her 'art work' to the public…

But, what if she ratted him out? It would not be her fault entirely; it would be the messages forcing her to do so, but what would happen then? He would go to the listening room for sure.

There was only one thing left to do; get to her before the messages get her.

And he knew exactly where every teenager would be gathering in a few minutes; school.

* * *

Danny slammed his locker shut in anger. There was no sign of her. He looked everywhere; the library, the common room, the classes, heck, he even checked the janitors closet.

Where could she be? Did she tell anyone? Will she be in trouble? Will they take her to the listening room?

_If you know about the graffiti, tell someone. _

Overcome with the sudden urge to punch someone, he banged his head against his locker. Repeatedly. It wasn't until someone coughed pointedly behind him, he stopped. Surprised, he turned around – hoping against hope to see Sam – but came face to face with Tucker.

Every fiber in his being wanted him to scream.

Seeing the don't-you-dare-mess-with-me look on Danny's face, Tucker decided right now, was not the best time. "Um. Sorry. Just wanted to know where, uh…" He glanced at the crumpled paper in his hands, "Mr. Lancer's room is,"

Inhaling through his nose, he replied – with mighty effort – "Along the corridor, first door to your right. Can't miss it,"

_If you know about the graffiti, tell someone. _

"I don't even like graffiti," Tucker mumbled, as the new message entered their minds.

A group of kids walked across the corridor – he wouldn't be surprised if they were his age - all the girls having their hair done properly in plaits, blue checked skits and white blouses. All the boys neatly dressed in grey trousers and also white blouses.

"I didn't know there was a uniform policy," Tucker said, still eyeing wearily at the passing crowd.

Danny snorted. "There isn't," he supplied. Tucker looked at him expectantly, waiting for explanation, but there was none to come.

Would you tell someone that they have been in this city so long that they are now brainwashed and now wear exactly what the messages tell them to?

_If you know about the graffiti, tell someone. _

"Funny though," Tucker said, deriving attention back to himself. "Today, I almost wanted to wear the same thing," And with that, he shoved his glasses back up his nose, and walked to class.

Danny frowned. The messages were getting to him faster than he anticipated. Looking at the African-American as he walked away, he realized that he was still wearing baggy pants and a yellow jumper, accompanied with a red beret.

Well, at least he will keep his fashion sense – even though it ridiculous; any act of rebellion against the messages should be applauded.

"You didn't get arrested yet?" came a familiar voice from behind him. Turning around, all he found that suddenly, all his anger was gone. She wore a smile on her face, but her violet eyes were miserable.

"Nope. What's up?" He asked, even though he desperately wanted to know if she did or not tell anyone, somehow this was the first question that rolled off his tongue.

"Nothing Picasso, I think I am seeing things. Never mind," She blew stay bands of hair that were limiting her field of vision. Whatever it was, it was bugging her.

_If you know about the graffiti, tell someone. _

Sam chuckled a bit. "I don't know why, but I keep getting this nagging feeling telling me to confess,"

So she didn't tell anyone. Relief flooded through him, but then, realizing her painful expression, he tensed up. No, she can't give in to the messages. They are not her thoughts, not her line of thinking. They don't need to be fallowed.

"There is no need to. If you ask me, there should be a bit more color around." He said smoothly, hoping she couldn't pick up the defenselessness of his tone.

The bell rang, and they both quietly walked off to class.

* * *

The monotone voice of the teacher was droning on in the background, never seeming to stop. All heads were hunched over their papers, taking notes, the only sound of pen scarping on paper was heard, and the occasional buzz from the air conditioning.

All, except three heads.

The one closest to the window, was a raven-haired-violet-eyed-ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, who found staring at the grass growing outside more interesting than the detailed diagram that was being drawn on the board.

The second, belonged to the owner of a red beret, bobbing up and down excitedly as he just finished another level of the latest game, which was currently being played on his PDA, under the table.

The third, was Danny's; who was watching the two other heads with interest. They were not taking notes, and paying their full attention towards the lesson. They were doing what they _felt_ like, something Danny is not accustomed to.

No matter, they will become like the rest of them. Soon, the messages will seep through their skin, and they will no longer be 'nagging feelings' but actions. Soon, they will take control of their minds, and they will become just like the rest of them.

He had major difficulty trying to picture Tucker, without his red beret, in a white shirt and grey trousers, neatly pressed and ironed. That just…didn't seem like him at all. And Sam, god no, he didn't even know her well but he knew that much; nothing, absolutely nothing, will get her to change her style.

Well, except for the messages, of course.

It's sad. Depressing, even, to think that these two teenagers would be joining the others in a robotic life with no purpose, destined to die one day.

Unless…he could help them.

Then it hit him full force; He could help them! Help them escape; help them survive, at least_ something_ to keep them different. To keep them the way they are. Perfect! Just, perfect! All he needed was to- "Fenton!" the bald headed teacher screeched.

Caught off guard, he jumped and darted his eyes across the classroom, momentarily forgetting where he was. "Huh? What? When?" He said.

Mr. Lancer sighed impatiently, and said, "I asked you if you would mind joining Tucker for the project,"

Oh. A project. "Sure,"

"Good. It will count as fifteen percent of your grade, so don't even think about coming up with an excuse," he said, glaring at the top of his raven locks.

He sunk into his chair in humiliation, but the bell rang before he could mumble anything to save his dignity. (Or, what's left of it.)

"Can I come over?" Looking up, he saw Tucker again, hovering over his desk. He was clutching his PDA rather nervously. "For the project, I mean," he added more anxiously.

Come over? Perfect.

"Why not? Let's go," Slinging his own bag across his shoulder, he led the way.

* * *

**Ta da! There ya go. Hope you like it. Not my best chapter, but still the longest so far. Next update a week from now. **

**Oh, and the second section where **_the writing was all in italics like this_**, was a flashback. If, you are confused.**

**All I can say is: This story has its up's and down's, but if you stick around, you will get the message. **

**Thanks for reading, please review. **

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe.**


	5. Maddie

**Not a really good chapter. But, oh well, here we go…**

**Thank you all so much for reviewing! I shall reply to reviews below. Just read the fic first. ;)**

**DISCLAIMER: Danny Phantom and **_**Candor**_** do not belong to me.**

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Chapter 4; Maddie**

* * *

Thump. Both bags were now plopped carelessly on the floor. Both the boys' sneakers skidded through the neatly polished halls of Vlads' mansion. Danny never considered it his own, never did, never will.

Tucker was mesmerized by just how vast the place was. Danny lead the way in the spacious palace, turning halls in orderly fashion, going up and down steps, opening doors that Tucker never knew were there until unlocked.

White walls covering all inches eyesight can reveal. A soft red carpet under your feet, accompanied by an odd painting – usually a landscape of some scenery – here or there.

"Huh. You never struck me as a rich kid," Tucker muttered, but because of the immeasurable hall they seemed to be waking in, for a long time, his voice echoed.

Danny was…puzzled to say the least. He was never outside the city, so he doesn't know how systems work over there. Money-wise? That doesn't seem fair. What if you're poor?

Yes, you still need money here, but its only for buying groceries or funding something. We can't judge someone by the amount of money they have.

The messages won't allow it.

"We don't have distinctions according to wealth over here," he replied, but was still uncomfortable about the idea of having a society where your wealth told who you are.

"No, I meant by attitude. You don't seem like a snob," Tucker replied, pushing his glasses up his nose. Attitude? Sorry, but if you stay here long enough that will vanish along with your remaining sanity.

"Nope. Just me. Just average Danny," He said, opening his bedroom door; which they finally reached.

Tucker smiled as they entered. Now_ this_, was a room. The walls were painted baby blue, and clothes, books, and odd things no one could name were scattered all over the floor. The desk was full of wrappers; someone had a wonderful snack time.

Seeing Tuckers approval, Danny relaxed. This was usually the spare room, and Vlad, being Vlad didn't have enough time to go thoroughly over his big home. All he needed was to know where his room, the basement – or should I say secret lab – the kitchen, and the bathroom was. He also knew Danny's room, but not the real one. He knew the white-painted-neatly-folded and polished room.

Not this.

Tucker flopped himself on a beanbag, Danny doing the same opposite him. They chatted for some time. Just small things. School. They laughed. The new town. Settling in. Tucker would usually pop in a few technological statements in which Danny would pretend to listen, every so often. All in all, it was the most relaxing time he ever had.

The only time, Danny realized, when he actually showed anyone his true self, not the splatter of a perfect picture Vlad was trying to make him.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of gratitude to his new friend.

"Meow,"

Both heads in the room whipped to see a black-and-white feline enter the door. She seemed to know her way around the room, as if she had been here many times before, and strode to a comfortable purple rug that was piled in a heap in the middle of the room. She stretched, a bit, and sagged into the rug, closing her green eyes as she did so.

"You never told me you had a cat," Tucker stated, reaching to stroke the feline. But once noticing Tucker, and giving a hiss of disapproval, he backed away sheepish.

"It's not mine. But it seems to like me more, through," Danny said, eyeing the cat wearily.

"Then, whose is it?" Tucker asked, seemingly confused. He heard that Danny's parents were dead, but he didn't know who he was staying with.

"Vlad,"

Danny said it in a whisper, studying Tuckers moves. First, he was confused, and then a flicker of recognition fitted across his face. Obviously, he knew who Vlad was. Everyone did. The mayor and founder of the city.

The city where nothing goes wrong.

A few minutes of uncomfortable silence passes between them. "Well," Tucker said, and after given up on choosing the correct type of words, he said, "That explains the mansion,"

This caused Danny to burst out laughing. It wasn't funny, but watching Tucker suffer through his throbbing head to form one coherent sentence…and this is what he got.

Oh, he was definitely going to help Tucker. Humor like his needs to be saved.

Seeing Danny laugh, and not stare at him as if he was being examined, lifted the serious demeanor in the room immensely. It was still there, but higher up, away from their worries. Suddenly, he remembered what exactly he was here for.

Once accepting the fact that Danny was not going to stop chuckling over something not even that funny, Tucker decided to take the expedition of finding the bags himself, and proceeded down the longest hall known to him – at this point in life.

Over his shoulder, he hollered, "I will go get the bags. We need to get started on the project,"

Hearing the word 'project' Danny remembered why exactly he brought Tucker here. To tell him! But how? He can't just go up to him and be all; "Hey dude, guess what? You live in a city that brainwashes you! Congrats! Now help me form a plan to get you out of here,"

Nope, that would not work.

But what exactly would? He will just think he's crazy. Considering that he is half ghost as well, he probably is a bit insane… But there was no time to contemplate on that now! He needed to think. Think. Think. What's the best way to tell a teenager that they are being slowly brainwashed?

Uh… he got nothing.

Frustrated, he said, "What do I do Maddie?"

Maddie, who was half way in between sleeping on the rug and listening to her surroundings gave a soft "Meow," as a response.

In the midst of his brain turning bolts and fuses, and Maddie trying to sleep; from somewhere deep in the mansion came a distressed cry of; "Uh…Danny, I am lost!"

In normal circumstances, he would have chuckled at the situation. But, in that same moment; a silver wisp emitted from his mouth; indicating his ghost sense. Danny shot up the bean bag, and thundered across the hall without a seconds thought.

While Maddie purred softly in her sleep.

* * *

**So… yeah. Not bad, but not good. What do you think?**

**And now, I shall reply to reviews:-**

**PIE HATER ; Awww, everyone likes Tucker. Question: Why do you hate pie so much? Sorry for being nosy, but the question has been bugging me ever since you changed your pen name to 'PIE HATER'. Thanks 4 your reviews!**

**ploThief ; well...I could tell u the books author and ruin the fic for you...or not...don't worry, I won't leave you hanging. As soon as the beginning is done with, I will tell the author but for now... Thank you for reviewing!**

**SandraStar66 ; Fenton phones... huh, never really thought of that. But Danny's parents both died when he was very young, so do you think they were invented? ;) Don't worry, the trio will figure some other way to keep their sanity. Thanks 4 the reviews!**

**sammansonrepilica ; (love your pen name btw) and loving your reviews! Thanks so much 4 da support.**

**Invader Johnny ; I like the fact that you just give me a one-sentence summary of what happened in the chapter as a review. lol, remember when you said "Danny listening to his gut feeling is going to get him killed?" ...yeah, hold on to that one, will ya? We are getting there...**

**mihane100 ; Well, I am glad you like the idea, hope I keep entertaining you. Thanks for your reviews!**

**ShadowDragon357 ; You would be surprised on how many people age well. My parents are in their mid-forties and look like their in their early thirties. (Its genetic, don't ask; because I probably won't know, I never paid attention in biology.) Thanks for the reviews!**

**Emmazippy577 ; You seem like a very cheerful person. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story... 'cuz its gunna start to get a bit depressing... Thanks 4 your reviews!**

**Conny14Sam ; Thanks for the complements on my writing. English is not my first language actually, so I am very pleased on how many people like my work. Yea, this week was fine, thanks. Might I ask, what do you ship?**

**The elf from Alagesia ; Thank you so much for your continued support. Really, it's been great to see your name pop up so many times here. Don't worry, things will soon pick up the pace in this fic, and Haunted Nightmares...2.**

**And to all of you, thank you so much! Especially the kind things you said about Danny's and Sam's first meeting, I really thought that was a downer. You all make me smile! :)**

**Thanks for reading, next update coming soon. Please review. **

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	6. Sketch pad

**Thank you so much;**_** SandraStar66, Invader Johnny, Iblamepie, The elf from Alagesia, dakotabaker72**_**, and**_** Guest**_**, for reviewing. **

**DISCLAIMER: Danny Phantom and **_**Candor**_** do not belong to me.**

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Chapter 5; Sketch pad**

* * *

"Now wasn't really the best time to get lost Tucker!" Danny yelled, skidding while zigzagging his way through the maze of a home he lived in. In his blinding haste; slipping on the polished floor, and tripping over furniture items that he never really knew existed, he made his way closer to the whereabouts of Tuckers' voice.

"I found our stuff!" Came the Greeks reply, and so Danny knew exactly where he was. Outside main hall to the right, where he dumped the bags. Taking off in the correct route, he became closer to him – or at least, his voice.

Running at full speed, he almost bumped into a wall that appeared out of nowhere in front of his nose.

"Daniel," Came the voice above.

Well, ok, so he didn't bump into a wall – rather, a person; Vlad.

Gah! What now? He needed to get to Tucker; and fast, there is a ghost on the loose!

The raven haired teen looked straight up into the billionaires' eyes. "Yes?" he said, with as much false happiness he could muster.

"Where is Maddie?"

The fact that Vlad just asked for his cat didn't bother him, because he knew where she was. So, naturally, being the dumb teenager he was, the answer rolled off of his tongue; "Guest bedroom,"

Vlad left for the room without even giving him a sidewise glance.

Then, he realized that he just told Vlad the exact location of his secret room.

Crap.

Two options: either go get Tucker and ensure his safety, or go after Vlad and tell him that Maddie is actually in his room, and ensure _his own_ safety. Or just go and find the ghost.

Oh, the choices.

Gritting his teeth, he began fast walking the length of the room. Walk across the hall. Left, down the stairs. When he finally did reach the bags, he was surprised to only find one bag there.

Did Tucker leave?

His question was answered when an-all-too-familiar "Meow," was heard behind him. Turning around, he saw Vlad cradling Maddie with one hand, and patting her with the other.

He braced himself; for the shouts and punishment. For defying Vlad's own messages. For breaking almost every rule sent by ectoplasm to his brain, just in that one blue painted room.

But, the yelling never came. Instead, Vlad just said, "He left the moment he saw me enter. Warn me next time you decide to bring a friend here." And with that, he turned his heel, and walked away.

Didn't he see the room?

Should he go after the ghost? Why didn't he/she make an appearance yet?

What kind of message did Vlad send Tucker to make him go away, without a goodbye?

Alright. So, first attempt in telling Tucker the messages was not good. But, that doesn't mean that his attempts telling Sam would fail too, right? Anyways, he planned exactly what he needs to say to her. Get straight to the point. That's all he needed to concentrate on right now; get straight to the point.

He finds her at about lunch time, sitting in the park – well, a stretch of grass and a few trees that are considered to be the school park. It's not hard to find her; she is sitting alone under the shade of a tree across the school. Black jeans, black tank top.

Danny waves, but she doesn't see him. She's staring at the notebook in her lap, like every other kid at the park. Danny almost starts to panic; did she change from the last time they talked?

The school's park is like a library, only with ninety degree heat from the blaring sun. It's where almost everyone comes out here for lunch; they chew food and memorize facts and figures at the same time.

But they all sit alone. It's just a patch of green grass, dotted with people; surrounded by piles of books and papers and highlighters. The ones that don't score a shady spot under shade, wear hats with big brims.

Why they bring these hats to school? Well; _Always protect yourself from the sun. _

Gee Vlad, wonder how long it took to come up with that one?

He walks steadily across the sea of studying students. No one looks up; they are all too absorbed in their work. _Always do your best._

Upon reaching, he says, "I hope you're not studying," he sits down without being asked and sets his backpack next to him.

She looks up for a second. "You again. Go away," And with that, she brings her attention back to her book. Huh. She never really was that good with greetings.

Sam makes a shooting motion at him, but no. He and his backpack are staying. Danny points at the notebook on her lap. It's so big it covers both her knees, and there aren't any lines on the paper. "What's that for?"

She snorts. "_Please_ tell me you've seen a sketch pad before,"

"There aren't many sketch pads around here," he said.

"Another thing to hate about this place." She balls up a fist and rubs her temples. "There is not one lousy art class,"

Vlad always thought that art was a waste of time and energy. No one here does it. Well, now maybe is not the best time, but she has to know. So he launches the speech.

"I have a proposal," he says, "Well – you know. Not that kind of proposal. Not going to Vegas or anything. A deal. I want to make a deal with you,"

Ugh! It's coming out all wrong. How does she do it? How does she make his mouth open and blabber out words that don't make sense? He gave the speech a million times in front of his bedroom mirror. He even gave it Maddie once. That's not how it's supposed to start.

But, lucky for him, she's not listening. She's running one finger across the sketch pad. The other goes up and tucks a stay hair behind her ear. She glances up at him. Then back down on the pad. Up. Down. Back and forth.

"To start, I have to tell you something shocking," he says. Good; he's back on track.

"Shhh," She says, circling the pencil over the pad. But it doesn't touch the paper. Just circles. Floats down, almost touches…flies up. Circles again. It looks like a bird that doesn't know how to stop flying.

"You might not believe me at first. But I promise it's true," He continues.

More pencil circling. More ignoring Danny.

He checks his watch. Just twelve minutes before the bell. Just twelve minutes before Mr. Lancers boring monotone voice. "Listen to me," He urges.

She drops the pencil. "Dammit!" She balls he hand into a fist and slams it on the pad. "I am trying to concentrate!"

It wasn't always this hard for her. "Your forgetting how to do it, aren't you?" He asks, his blue eyes looking into her violet ones.

"I am just having a hard time getting started. It happens," She shrugs.

Sure. It just might not be those messages seeping in, telling her that there are more important things to be doing. But seeing the pained expression on her face is too much.

"It happens to all the arty kids at Amity," He says, his voice somewhat sympathetic. "Eventually, they just give up,"

Her eyes dart to meet his; and in those few seconds he sees what she is experiencing. Something, something very special, is slowly being taken. Taken away from her. She looks down at the empty pad. She whispers, "That really doesn't happen, does it?"

Here. Now is his chance. "It's true. In a week, you won't even care about drawing or painting. Unless –"

"Stop. Just stop talking," Now her voice is loud and certain again. She jabs her pencil towards him. "And don't move,"

"But I can help you!" he says, annoyed. He has to help her. She's interesting. Someone real. Not like the thousand zombies invading Amity.

"Shut up. Sit still. Or go," She says, jerking her head back towards the school.

The breeze shifts. Her hair blow around her face. His nostrils are suddenly full of the smells something sweet. Something new. Something out of place. Lilacs. It's too hot for them to grow here in Amity. Man, what kind of shampoo is that?

He breathes in deeply.

"You get three minutes," he tells her. "Then I talk, and you listen,"

"I've got it now," She mutters. Her hand swoops over her sketch pad. It's not a lost bird anymore. Now it's graceful; certain. The pencil laves dark arcs and lines behind. There is no shape forming, but it's obvious she knows what she is doing.

She looks up at him. Squints.

Danny can't stop his loop-sided grin forming. "Like what you see?"

"Silence," She says, but you can see her lips moving into a soft smile. Then she's back to drawing.

There is a moment of silence, where only the light pencil touches can be heard off of Sam's sketch pad, in which Danny was admiring her. How her hair delivered the sweet smell of lilacs. How her eyes lit up with concentration. How she would nibble on the bottom of her lip when she would get stuck.

The church bell bongs noon. Just seven minutes before the bell – he has to tell her.

"It's my turn," he tells her.

"One more minute. Don't talk," She picks her pencil off the paper and moves it towards his face. He watches it come closer until he is cross-eyed. Then she touches the eraser to the bottom of his lip. Drags it slowly around the edge of his mouth. It feels gritty, but soft. Gentle.

"There," she whispers. "Now I've got the shape," She pulls it away fast and starts drawing again.

His lips tingle. He wants her to do it again.

But no. She's not supposed to be running the show. That has to stop.

"My turn," He slaps his hand over the drawing, blocking her from doing any work on it.

She looks up. "There are better places to put that hand,"

He lets himself imagine. One lucky hand, set loose. No boundaries. He shivers.

"Where do you want me to start?" He says.

An Amity girl would just spew a few messages at him if he said that. Probably walk away as fast as she could, once she was done reminding him how good she was. But Sam just pokes his hand off the paper with her pencil eraser and goes back into the land of drawing.

Then he remembers: He has to make this fast and convincing. So, she starts at the end of the speech. "They're brainwashing you," He says. "Soon there won't be anything special left,"

She snots and glances up. "And here I thought al you guys were robots. Robots can do all kinds of interesting things, you know,"

"It's no joke. People are perfect here because of the messages,"

"You have slight points on the tips of your ears," She tilts her head and stares at him. "Kind of like an elf,"

"You have to listen to me," His voice is getting loud, as if it's some other guy talking. Some guys who has no control over his body. "Or you won't be drawing anymore. You'll be just like them,"

"Not _that's_ scary," She says, but her grin is still plastered on her face as she says it.

The bell rings. He feels the urge to hurry.

"You don't have long. Usually it only takes a week, maybe two. Unless you let me help you," He's almost begging now. Pathetic. But he would do it.

For her.

She shuts her notebook and stands up. Danny grabs his bag and slings it across his shoulder. Sam looks like she is about to say something when-

"Danny?"

Tucker's voice appears behind him. Turning round, he could only give him a pained glance. "You coming?" He asks, stuffing his PDA in his pocket.

Oh, right, they were supposed to be working on a project.

"Well. See you guys later," Sam says. And she takes off jogging. Not headed for school.

"You're going the wrong way!" Tucker shouts, but Sam just ignores and continues jogging. Away from school. She reaches the edge of the park. Leaps over the fence. And she's gone.

"We better go," Tucker says, walking in the correct direction; to school.

He only looks over his shoulder once, maybe twice. Wondering where Sam went.

Wishing he had the guts to ditch Tucker, and run after her, and go with her.

Wishing, that he had been invited.

* * *

**Right. Some slight DXS for you… if you kind of think about it…**

**I had some help with that chapter. Thank you sis!**

**Well, anyways. Thanks for reading! Please review. **

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	7. A little push

**Thank you so much;**_**Iblamepie**__**, **__**SandraStar66**__**, **__**Invader Johnny**__**, **__**ShadowDragon357**_**, and **_**Guest,**_** for reviewing! **

**DISCLAIMER: Danny Phantom and **_**Candor**_** do not belong to me.**

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Chapter 6; A little push**

* * *

Zooming high above the city, Danny Phantom relishes the feeling of the air playing with his hair; as he tries to think. Right, so the first attempts on telling either of them went downhill pretty quickly. But, second time won't be so bad, right?

Sighing, he abandons flying, and lands on a neatly-red-painted roof.

Why doesn't he try telling them both together? Yeah, maybe that would work. But what if it doesn't? What if one of them doesn't get the idea and influences the other? What if they both end up being brainless zombies?

Looking up, he saw the stars – a hundred miles away sailing space, looking down at him.

What if Jazz is also star-gazing this very moment? Oh, only if Jazz were here. She would know what to do.

But Jazz isn't the only member of his family. Only alive member, yes, but not the only one.

A sad smile made crept its way to his face.

"Mum, Dad, if you're listening, I just want you to know, I won't give up," And with that, he disappeared – quite litterly – back to Vlad's mansion.

Unaware of the stars high above the sky, twinkling in delight.

* * *

Saturday starts like it's supposed to. Danny brews coffee. Vlad reads the newspaper. But nothing feels normal. Then again, when does it? I mean, controlling your brain and all – nope, definitely not normal.

Danny stares at the boiling kettle – unaware of the fact that its whistling; his mind is so distracted. He thinks of Sam everywhere he goes. There's nothing else that can avoid it; Those piercing violet, teasing eyes. Shiny, glossed, curving lips.

Vlad makes his way to the kitchen table, grabs a thermos from the cabinet, and fills it with the coffee from Danny's kettle. "Go get the tackle box," he says, "And the poles."

"Fishing?" They never go fishing. Well, not anymore.

He should be excited. Instead, the idea of going fishing with Vlad only makes him nervous. Everything that's different is making him nervous. Sam. Graffiti. Tucker. Ghosts. New messages. Rebellion. It could be the beginning of an end. Another sign that he's caught somehow.

Vlad looks at his watch. "Better hurry,"

"But I don't know where the tackle box –"

"Garage, left the door. Third shelf from the bottom,"

A message explodes in his brain._ Always obey your parents._

Asking questions will only make Vlad more suspicious. That's not the kind of things goof Amity kids do. So Danny shuffles his feet and goes to the garage.

The box is right where Vlad told him it would be. Rusty. Old, fingerprints make polka dots on the dust that gathered on it from the years. One of the latches is missing.

It's not how it used to be. Not even close.

* * *

The thermometer in Vlad's car reads _85_, and its only 9:00 A.M. "Great fishing weather," Danny comments.

He nods. Either Vlad's ignoring his attitude or he doesn't believe its real. So Danny tries again.

"Maybe it's too hot. We could go tomorrow," 'Or never' he silently adds in his head.

Vlad gives a quick shake of his head and proceeds driving. "Things are set for today,"

What things? He wants to ask. But he's supposed to be afraid of his father. In his pretend life here in Amity, Vlad's supposed to be his idol. So Danny remains quiet. What else is there to do? Run away screaming?

It's downtown Amity; opposite Amity park. They park a few blocks away from the pond. Amity never really had natural ponds; they built it when Vlad made the town. Scooped out dirt to fill people's gardens with. Filled the gaping hole with water.

Insert fish. Instant nature.

They sit near the edge, in the blazing heat. Vlad sets the tackle box in the shade, flips the lid, pulls out a frog lure and attaches it to his line. Makes the first catch of the day. It's perfect; lands with barely a detectable splash.

After a few minutes, in which Danny casts his own line, he speaks; "Thought I told you already. Big bus coming in today,"

Danny gripped his rod with a bit more force than necessary. More people. More clones. Oh, hooray. "We don't need the business, do we?" The waiting list is already years long. Why does Vlad suddenly care about a bus full of tourists?

"There is no such thing as to much business,"

Danny shakes his head, letting his bangs fall over his eyes. Oh, why did he even bother asking? He always says that. It's like he thinks that the waiting list is just a savings account. But…that's why he's still here, right? I mean, Vlad could have easily shipped him off with Jazz to boarding school. Why didn't he?

Maybe that's why he's still here: he's a prop. It must look nice. Father and son, (not biologically, but you get the point) fishing together. Ah, Amity. Home for happy families. Or, in Danny's case; what's left of them.

"Hot today," Vlad says, "They'll be deep,"

"This is nice," Danny admits, because, it kind of is. If he just forgets it's all just for show. Pretend that Sam, and Tucker, and purple graffiti never happened. There's nothing to be afraid of getting caught. No listening room.

"People want something when they see someone else using it. Remember that," Vlad says. He squints – as if he is decided in something – and then says, "Some newcomers aren't adjusting here as expected,"

Newcomers? "I wish I could help," Danny says, but it's just part of the plan to shut down Vlad business.

"You will help," His voice is so certain, "There are two. But one in particular. Samantha Manson. She's your age,"

Sam. Suddenly, Danny's body tenses, and a drop of sweat rolls down his spine.

"She's not adjusting well," Vlad continues, oblivious to Danny's new posture, "Her parents are worried. They came to my office yesterday and we had came to an agreement,"

Vlad finally looks at Danny, his eyes full of determination find Danny's utterly confused ones. "I told them you would help,"

Danny looks at him. He's still watching him, so he keeps his face blank.

"How, exactly?"

"You're her new best friend. Wherever you go, she goes. You'll keep her straight,"

Danny loves this idea. But it came from Vlad. And so, he must be planning something. So; he should hate this idea. Anything can pop up from Vlad's sleeve. Better to go with the hating idea. We don't need Sam getting hurt.

"We have finals coming up," he says weekly.

"Find a way to make it work,"

"And collage applications. Oh, and don't forget all my chores. I wouldn't want to stop doing my chores. It's important to help ones parents," Danny preserves the pleasure of spitting out Vlad's own messages in his face when it's inconvenient for him.

But it's as if they never even touched him. "The girl needs a good example. And it's going to be you," He casts his line out again, smooth and confident.

Who's going to be Danny's good example? Who's going to show him how to ignore the feelings he gets when he's around her? Who's going to help him control the urge he gets, to do stupid, dangerous things, when it comes to her?

Vlad chuckles a bit. "Just don't get attached. Everyone leaves eventually,"

"You don't have to worry about me,"

"I never do," He smiles, "I'll invite her over for lunch sometime soon,"

Then his line jerks. "A bite!" He starts reeling.

It's nineteen or twenty inches, with beautiful blue green scales. "You got a big one," Danny deadpanned.

"Even the fish listen to me," He grins and holds the line up high. Danny didn't know if the pun was intended or not, but all he could do was watch as the poor things gills' flap in and out.

Vlad turns around and waves. A sideways glace shows the big bus. Unbelievable. Some of the tourists actually cheer.

It's for real; and the feeling is back again, the useless feeling of being something unmeaningful, insignificant; the prop.

Danny reaches for the fish. "It can't breathe,"

Vlad hands the flopping thing to him, and heads for the bus. Danny quietly slides the hook out of the fish's lips. Then he kneels down and sets the fish in the water. It stays in place, suspended. Waves its tail. Once. Twice.

"Welcome to Amity!" Vlad yells, he'll probably climb on to the bus next, and convince the driver to give them a tour.

The fish twists his whole body.

"Go," Danny whispers.

A few more flapping of fins, one last flex of its tail, and it's gone.

It's not impossible to escape Vlad.

It just takes a little help.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Please review.**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


	8. Picasso's Challenge

**Sorry for not updating earlier. Read author's note at bottom when done. Thanks.**

**Thank you so much; **_**dakotabaker72**__**, **__**SandraStar66**__**, **__**Iblamepie**__**, **__**The elf from Alagesia**__**, **__**ShadowDragon357**_**and**_**Invader Johnny**_**, ****for reviewing! **

**DISCLAIMER: Danny Phantom and **_**Candor**_** do not belong to me.**

* * *

**Sacrifices**

**Chapter 7; Picasso's Challenge**

* * *

Sam is supposed to be his new 'hey-I-am-going-to-fallow-you-around-and-annoy-you' buddy. But by the frustrated look on Danny's face the fallowing morning; you can tell this is not going as planned. The odd thing is, he doesn't know whether to be happy or angry. Somewhere between both, I guess.

Sam is obviously refusing to listen to what the messages are ordering her to do. He can't find her anywhere. Again. Man, she's really good at hiding. This is getting annoying. But it doesn't soothe the matter. Sure, she is just rebelling the battle in her head – and winning – the odds are not in his favor, because he hasn't seen her all day. He should celebrate, right?

But…what if…she isn't hiding?

What if…Something happened to her?

Frustration and happiness wipes clear, and now replaced with a new emotion; Fear. And then he sees it; the little flicker of raven hair and hope, through the crowd of fake-smiles and neatly pressed dummies.

Practically power-walking through the corridor, he doesn't even realize he bumped into someone until they speak.

"Did you hear the news?" She asks, eyes wide. She has a death-iron grip on her clipboard. "They say it's horrific. Graffiti everywhere!"

Paulina.

He still remembers her first day in Amity. And he almost felt sorry for her. She looked helpless. Confused. She demanded to know why everyone was wearing the same things. She demanded to know where the 'popular gang' hang out. She demanded to know why everyone was so perfect. She demanded to be taken back to her boyfriend, Dash (Who, he presumed, was outside Amity.) Demanded to know where the shopping malls were. Demanded to know where all her money went. Demanded to know how to get the hell out of here.

She demanded…but never got.

Everyone is equal here in Amity, the messages make sure of that. And it didn't even take long for her. Three days tops, and suddenly, she was an Amity zombie.

Sometimes, he feels slight sympathy for her.

So he made his eyes look big, mouth wide; "Oh that's terrible!" he said. He looks across her shoulder. No Sam.

No hope.

"Here," She wasted no time, and in moments, Danny found a lined paper stuck on a clip board shoved up beneath his nose. The letters TAG were written in neon green on the top. A ballpoint pen was also shoved in his hand.

"What's this?" He asked.

"A petition. Sign it. I need at least forty by lunch," She said, crossing her arms. "Uh, I mean, please." She looks frustrated with herself. Huh, it must be hard to have that bossy brain and those messages stuck in one skull.

So he does her the favor. "Here," he said, as he finished signing. He almost takes off jogging to catch up with Sam, but then says; "Now, what exactly have I agreed to?"

"We need to take action. You volunteered to become a member of T.A.G. Teens Against Graffiti,"

"And I am supposed to…?"

"Join us tomorrow after school. Come next to the café near the flag pole. TAG will supply chalk, and we're putting pride messages on our sidewalks," She says.

"So basically we are writing on our sidewalks,"

She taps her clip board with her pen. "I got at least sixty catchy phrases right here,"

It's too funny to be real. The goofy grin comes up on his face as he says, "Isn't that graffiti?"

"It's a statement. It's anti-graffiti!" She looks even more annoyed with herself.

"I guess if we cover the sidewalks; then there will be no room for graffiti," He teases.

But she takes him seriously, and acts as if he came with the cure for cancer.

"Oh, I never thought of that! We need to think of something for the lamp poles too!" And she hurries off in the swarm of people getting to their classes.

_The great are never late._

He feels the urge to get to class. He feels the twitching in his legs, begging him to move forward. But he doesn't budge. People are moving faster now. Then, he sees her.

Black T-shirt and tangled hair, in the middle of all the clones that are neatly ironed and wearing pastel. Beautiful and dangerous. Sam.

Danny pushes through the crowd. Black T-shirt, strait up ahead, but moving fast. He pumps up his pace.

Some kid with glasses and a short haircut pops up in front of him. "Is that a petition? May I sign it?" Without a sideways glance, Danny tosses it to the beggar.

"Keep it and get forty more,"

He almost loses her. For a second, its only pastel, blank faces. But then she turns the corner and he catches a glimpse of her combat boots.

The bell rings. He's officially late. Suddenly, no one is in the hall anymore. He stumbles, turns the corner; and no one is there. No Sam.

Sighing in defeat, he lets his mind take him to his classroom.

_The great are never late._

* * *

Thump. Thump. Both bags are dropped carelessly to the floor. This time, right outside Danny's blue painted, messy, normal-looking, bedroom. Maddie came in as usual, hissed at Tucker, and curled up in the purple heap of cloth. Tucker – never even taking his eyes off his PDA – slumped in a bean bag. Danny paced around the room.

Both adolescents didn't come here for the project (which they didn't even start yet) Rather, Danny invited Tucker over. He was going to do it. He was going to spill the beans; and tell him about the messages.

"Tucker," He said, plopping himself on a chair opposite him.

Tucker gave a half-hearted grunt, telling him that he's listening, eyes still glazed to the PDA.

"Right. Um. Well, I…No, what I mean to say is… it's… this morning…UGH!" Flopping his hands up in frustration, he hung his head. His bangs covered his eyes.

Sensing that something serious is supposed to be happening, Tucker placed his PDA to the side-table, and looked at Danny. And stared. Danny realized that Tucker was looking at him. Probably waiting for him to say something. But it's not happening.

Tucker waited patiently, and after a few moments, said; "Girl problems?"

Danny's head shot up and looked at the techno-geek. "What?"

"Come on man. It's so obvious! I saw you two talking under the tree in the school park. She likes you!"

"Sam?"

"Oh, so there is someone else, then?"

Danny shook his head violently, all the while blushing a deep red, as Tucker smirked smugly.

Stuttering, Danny got out; "N-No. No, I mean, there isn't someone else, but no, this isn't what I wanted to talk to you about,"

"Then what?" And this time, Tucker was the one confused.

"Okay. I am going to tell you, but promise me, that you won't freak out, and don't interrupt me," Danny's eyes couldn't have looked more hopeful.

"Alright, but just saying; I ain't accepting any proposals yet,"

Danny gave him a disgusted look, and shrieked, "Tucker! EW! No!"

Tucker laughed and leaned in comfortably in the beanbag. Maddie, who was so rudely awoken by Danny; got up and padded out of the room, tail held high to show her disapproval. Once Tucker calmed down, and once Danny stopped blushing like a tomato, he begun.

"Tucker, have you noticed how you always get an itch at the back of your head, how you always want to do what everyone else is? You know, do your hair up, eat healthy, sign petitions, join causes, and 'help' all the time?

"Have you noticed how everyone here acts? Smiling, laughing, not one depressed soul? How they are all equal, how they all work together, NEVER disagree? They all wear the same clothes. They all eat the same things. They all think the same thoughts.

"They are robots. Because they are controlled, and they are controlling you too,"

Tucker's eyes were wide, but he didn't comment. And for that, Danny was thankful.

He continues; "It's the music. Hidden speakers everywhere. Behind rocks in your lawn. In school corridors. Hidden in your bedroom. Bathroom. Kitchen. Everywhere in Amity. It's like a Venus flytrap. The subliminal messages play at a frequency so low that you can't hear them, they just seem like some background music humming in the distance.

"But it's not. It makes you do things your normal persona would never do. I bet you wanted to eat eggs with orange juice for breakfast today,"

Tucker's mouth hangs open, and he mumbles something like "…I even refused the bacon,"

"Amity is Vlad's dream come true. I was so little, all I could do was watch as families and kids from all over the world came here. Soon, house sales started breaking records. The waiting list grew. Six months; a year; two years. Every house sold for even more that the one before.

"All I could do was protect myself. That's all. I watched it happen. But now, I think something snapped. No, Tucker, we both need to make sure that we survive. We need to stop the messages controlling us, and for that, I need your help,"

Danny stared, waiting in anticipation for what Tucker would say.

Tucker re-adjusts his glasses. Swallows. "I force myself to stick to my baby," he looks at the PDA sitting on the table, "I force myself to eat meat, too. It's working. The messages are changing me."

Danny looked at him, stunned. Not only did Tucker believe him, but he didn't argue, or ask questions, or freak out! He just…used logic to figure it out, and actually agree with him. He admitted that he is being changed! Danny's eyes were screaming that he was sorry. He should have said, or done something sooner.

And so, they sat and talked. Only about small things, like how you can trick your brain into thinking that isn't a message, or be deliberately late to class, continue to force yourself on the PDA; just small pieces of rebellion to keep Tucker going.

Until they figure out the real plan.

"I better go," Tucker said, getting up, scooping his PDA in one hand and his bag in the other. He nodded towards Danny, "Thanks man. For telling me."

"We'll figure something out. Don't worry,"

Tucker smiled. "Right after you tell Sam, right?"

Pink tinted Danny's cheeks. "Tell…her what?"

"Either you like her, or about the messages, I don't know," Tucker shrugged, grinning now, "But it has to be soon,"

* * *

Danny tries to sleep. But all attempts fail, as he imagines, how, exactly; is he supposed to get Sam to talk. To tell her about the messages. To tell her about the truth. Eventually, he gives up on laying down, and subconsciously his feet take himself to his window.

He needs to get some fresh air.

The blinds are closed. He flicks them open.

And jumps back. Someone's staring at him. He tries to swear, but his brain won't let him. His mouth is too busy hanging open like a fish.

But then he sees the black and white. A man on paper.

Someone taped a drawing on his window.

He slides it open, snatches the drawing, and slams the window shut.

Looking at it closely, he realizes that it's not a man – it's a kid his age. His eyes are wide – possibly scared? Or just shocked? But his lips are set and tense. He holds up one finger to his mouth, the universal indication to be quiet.

It's good. Really good.

A note scribbled in her neat handwriting sits on the bottom;

_Beat that Picasso. _

As if Danny needs her to tell him that she made this.

He lays down again, the need for fresh air now gone, as he examines the sketch.

She drew him. Sam drew Danny. But the Danny you would see in the mirror. Sam saw the Danny that's kept hidden. And she put him on paper.

Nobody sees the real Danny. Not since the accident.

But, tonight, Sam just proved him wrong, and that Danny is hidden there somewhere; and the only way to get him out is by helping her.

Her and Tucker.

* * *

**I think that is the longest chapter I have written so far. Yay!**

**Right guys, sorry for the late update. Need to tell you from now that updates will be slower than usual, my final exams are coming up and I have no intention to fail. **

**Once exams are over, then the holidays arrive; meaning updates galore! **

**Thanks for reading, please review. **

**And until next time…**

**~Mark the tiny Giraffe. **


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